A Merging Dream
by darrelodin
Summary: The Gran Grimoire grants it's readers the dreams they seek, something Mewt is glad to see, and even his friends can come along for the ride. Each one quickly finds themselves living their wildest dreams, but as Marche finds out, this paradise may not be what it appears...
1. Chapter 1: Winter Wonderland

_"Daddy, can you tell us a story?" His children sat up in their beds, eyes bright and shining._

_"Of course." He took a seat next to his son. "What kind of story would you two like?"_

_His daughter seemed surprised, but his son immediately spoke up. "Uh, how about one with dragons and magic and monsters and-"_

_He laughed, cutting him off. "Alright, I think I've got one just for you. Now, are you comfortable?" They both nodded before resting their heads back on him. "Good, good."_

_"A long, long time ago, there was a book. Yes kouklamou," He turned to his daughter before she could ask. "A very special book, called a the Gran Grimoire. Now, it was said that those who read this grimoire would have all their wildest dreams granted. Many fought to gain the book, for who wouldn't love to have everything they ever wanted. But the story of endless war isn't what I will tell you two. No, I'll be telling the story of four friends who discovered the book, centuries after the greatest mages of the land had sealed it away. Oh, there__'__ll be fighting, and danger, and even some very scary things, but this is a story about friendship tried and true. And it begins on a winter day..."_

Chapter 1: Wondrous Winter

"And that's how absolute value works." Isaac Leslaie finished, turning to face his class. He held back a sigh at the sight of them all. The front row was writing down notes, but from the frequent yawning he heard, Mr. Leslaie wondered how any of them were even awake still. Glancing at the clock though, he couldn't blame them. The last day of school before break, and another half hour before freedom. Why, it's as if he had asked them all to have some patience! Eyes settling on the light snow falling outside, Mr. Leslaie felt a similar jolt of impatience. He turned back to his class, already thinking of how to speed up this day..

"Alright everyone, since Christmas is just around the corner, and you all did so well on our last test, I've decided to give you a little treat." He raised a hand, silencing the cheers. "However, I'll only give it if one you can answer a question posed to you." He paused, amusement in his eyes at the sight of a now much more awake class.

"Lyle Mertavic." He said, looking to a groaning boy in the back of the room. "Tell me, what is the Greek word for 'Earth'?"

Lyle's head jerked up, realizing he'd been called. "Uh…" he muttered, glancing around for any sort of hint. Mr. Leslaie noticed one of his fellow trouble makers, Colin Lynch, make eye contact with the boy. The smug look on Colin's face as he mouthed an answer was confirmation enough for Lyle apparently. "Terra!" He shouted.

"Oops, sorry Colin." Mr. Leslaie said. He didn't need to look to know the hint-giver's face had reddened. "But it was 'Gaia.' Perhaps you and Lyle should brush up on some mythology? Mrs. Reynalds tells me you two could use an expanded vocabulary." The boys' faces turned even redder as laughter broke out among the students.

Letting his class settle down, Mr. Leslaie asked, "How about you Ms. Malheur? What is the largest forest in the United States?"

Sitting in the front row, Ritz Malheur had always been Mr. Leslaie's go-to girl when no one else would answer a math question. He wondered sometimes if she even realized how intimidating she was to her classmates because of that. Of course, all Mr. Leslaie's co-workers were proud of the girl, but he wondered if she didn't feel isolated. She had friends, but she never seemed to talk with them much, and heaven help any boy who came near her…"_Although,"_ he reflected, glancing at the glare Colin was giving her, _"That might be a special case."_

Ritz's eyebrows scrunched in thought, and she kept playing with her strawberry red curls. Finally, she said, "Would it be the Chugach National Forest, Mr. Leslaie?"

A small smile on his face, Mr. Leslaie shook his head. "Close, but it's actually the Tongass National Forest, Ritz." She nodded, already writing down the answer.

Mr. Leslaie looked to the rest of the class, keeping a grin off his face at the sight of his students. He could hear whispers everywhere, and he supposed they were guessing who and what he'd ask next. _"If only they'd be this excited for learning."_ He thought.

"Well, two strikes everyone. One more, and as they say, you're out. Mewt," he said, pointing at the boy in question. The scrawny kid almost jumped out of his seat. "Can you name one of the religious capitals of the world?"

Mr. Leslaie felt a small pang of pity at the sight of Mewt. He was smart, but word around the water cooler had labeled him below average among his fellow students. Mr. Leslaie didn't agree with his gossiping co-workers though, and took every chance he could to bring out the most of Mewt. Which translated to questions out of the boy's comfort zone. As Mewt's face turned an odd shade of red, Mr. Leslaie supposed he might have embarrassed him, and he made to change the question. But motion behind the boy behind Mewt stopped the teacher from saying a word.

It certainly didn't surprise Mr. Leslaie to see Marche helping. If the boy hadn't been doing so much good, he certainly would have received disciplinary action within his first week of school. As it was, Mr. Leslaie didn't know what to make of bright-eyed kid. Only having entered into classes a month ago, he didn't excel at much academically, but his other teachers swore he was just held back by something, perhaps a lack of interest. After all, how could such a kind, charismatic boy not be at the top of his class? He obviously knew his stuff, what with how much he whispered answers to other students.

Regardless, Mr. Leslaie decided enough was enough. "Mewt?" He prompted.

Jumping again, Mewt looked back to Mr. Leslaie, his hands gripping his desk. He took a couple of slow breaths. Then, so faintly Mr. Leslaie almost couldn't hear him, he said, "R-Rome."

Not responding, Mr. Leslaie walked back to his desk and began packing his supplies. It took every once of his self-control not to start laughing at the sight of his frightened class. Tugging on his gloves, he finally spared them a bewildered look.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" He asked, a grin breaking through his stoic façade. "There's a snowball fight waiting for you!"

Cheers rang out, and the students charged the door leaving Mr. Leslaie alone in the room. Chuckling, he went out the door as well, thinking, _"I do hope Ms. Reynalds shut her blinds. Otherwise, her class is about to become very loud."_

* * *

After quite a bit of yelling and threats from his co-workers, Mr. Leslaie managed to herd his class into the playground of the school. Luckily for him, it was near the side entrance of the school, meaning dismissal would be easy. He had the students set their bags on the steps, then separated them into groups. Marche Radiuju was barely paying attention, instead leaving his napsack with the others and walking out into the snow. The playground looked alien to him. The bright colors of the slides and swing-sets were buried under the blinding white snow everywhere. Even the bushes around the edge of the building had vanished, leaving only glimpses of the green that used to be there. Suddenly, he sneezed. With a groan he rubbed his nose and pulled his yellow scarf on tighter.

_"How can they handle the cold so well?_" Marche thought, watching his classmates throw snowballs at each other. _"And why Mom think this was a good idea? If Doned is bad in warm weather, how could he get better when it's freezing?"_

"Aww, come on! Why'd I get stuck on the lame team?" Someone shouted. Turning, Marche saw it was one of the P.E. Heads, Lyle. The guy looked like he wanted to throw a tantrum. "Seriously, it's bad enough I'm stuck with the new kid and Lana," Lana stuck her tongue out at that. Marche wondered how the guy still didn't know his name. "But Mewt too! It's like Mr. Leslaie wants me to lose."

"Hey, you could always use Mewt's teddy bear for protection! Right Mewt?" Colin said, earning him laughter from Lyle and another boy, Guinness Mewt whimpered a little, shuffling closer to Marche. Marche spared him a smile, before glaring at the others.

"Aww, what'sa matter, Mewt? Don't have ya teddy today, so you need someone else to save you?" Lyle said, focused on Mewt. "Like the new kid would do that." Smirking, he reached past Marche to shove Mewt. The shock in his eyes when Marche grabbed his arm was priceless. Lyle stared at Marche, who said, "Leave him alone."

Lyle yelled, "Let go of me!" and quickly pulled away. Marche wondered if anyone had stood up to him before. Then something wet hit his head, making Marche spin into Mewt.

"Pshh, come on Lyle, you got stopped by that little girl?" Colin said, another snowball already in his hand. Marche turned to see the guy had thrown a purple scarf over his orange sweater, standing tall on a snow-covered bench. "He can't even take one snowball!"

"And what is that supposed to mean, huh?" Marche watched the color drain from Colin's face as Ritz stomped over. Scrambling to join Lyle and Guinness, he tried, unsuccessfully, in Marche's opinion, to look confident.

Fists held at her sides, Ritz stopped right in front of Colin. She said, "I know 'little girls' who can kick your butt, Colin Harving! Like your own sister!" Laughter erupted from the others as Colin's face turned beet-red. "And since you and your cronies need a lesson, why don't I switch with you Lyle?" Ritz added. She turned to Colin, giving her patented "just-argue-with-me" glare.

Marche usually didn't like bullying, but when it came to Colin's gang, he gladly made exception. Ritz had seemed way more aggressive about it then usual, though. He wondered if she was angry about Mewt, or maybe..."Hmm?" Ritz was looking at him.

"Marche? Hello? Anyone there?" Ritz was waving a gloved hand in front of his face. Seeing him nod, she asked, "You said it didn't really snow where you came from, right?" Nodding again, Ritz said, "Okay, I'll show you how to make the perfect snowball."

She took up some snow, slowly forming it into her hands, but then stopped. She turned over to the girl nearby and said, "Hey Lana, can you get Mewt? I wanna crush those jerks, and he's going to help."

As he copied her movements, Marche asked, "What's up with them? " He got a blank stare in response, so he jerked his head in Lyle's direction. "When I first came, the three of them usually just interrupted class. Why the sudden bullying spree?"

"Oh, that? Apparently, their dads' all made huge donations to the school. Big ones. Which means they've got free reign as long as the school doesn't catch on fire." She said. "They usually just call names, but they've had it out for Mewt since..." Trailing off, she glanced at Marche's snowball. She looked it over and said, "Hey, not too bad! Now if you can throw it-"

"Hey Ritz, we're ready when you are!" Colin called out, confident once more. He was standing on top of one of the snow-covered pedestals dotting the yard. "Hope you're ready to eat the ice!"

"It's snow, Colin. Are you failing history and science?" Ritz responded, not bothering to look at the boy. Seeing Lana dragging Mewt through the snow, Ritz got up, motioning for Marche to follow.

"Okay, this might be just a snowball fight, but I want to win this, got it? So here's what we'll do: Marche and Lana will stay behind the pillars at the entrance, while Mewt and I hide near the slide and-" Hearing snorting, Ritz stopped. "And what is so funny?"

"Please," Lana scoffed, "You know how this'll end. Mewt'll just run around hiding while the rest of us play, and the terrible trio will chase him." Noticing the glares from Marche and Ritz, Lana crossed her arms and looked away, muttering, "It's true..."

"Okay everyone! The snowball match is about to begin!" Mr. Lelaie shouted, getting everyone's attention. He'd gotten a megaphone from somewhere, and was standing a safe distance away from the 'battlefield,' as he'd called it. "This match will be team Colin versus team Ritz."

"Look, it doesn't matter." Ritz said, ignoring Lana's sighs. "I want Colin covered in snow by the end of this, and I don't care who does it. Now, positions!"

Dashing his spot with Lana, Marche could feel excitement building up despite the cold. Safely behind the pillar, Marche listened for the countdown.

"Five..."

"Come on Mewt! We have to move." Ritz said. Mewt let out a squeak as she tugged him with her.

"Four..."

"Guinness, did you get it ready?" Colin asked, making another snowball.

"Three..."

Looking over to the slide, Lana sighed in annoyance. Mewt looked ready to bolt.

"Two..."

"The dweb looks like someone bopped him in the nose." Colin sniggered. Glancing at Mewt, Lyle and Guinness broke out into laughter.

"One..."

Taking a slow breath, Marche looked over the schoolyard once more. His eyes widened when he saw Mewt dashing around, Ritz shouting at him to come back to the slide.

"Begin!"

Dashing out, Marche scooped up some snow, trying to form a snowball. Mewt was just a few feet away,so then he'd be able to do something to cover them both. At least, Marche hoped so. He heard shouts all around him, Ritz stepping out to chuck a ball at someone, other projectiles raining down around Marche, one or two grazing him. He tossed his own handful of snow behind him, not caring if it hit anyone. Mewt had disappeared underneath one of the bushes near the building, causing it to shake and tremble.

Sliding next to him, Marche reached out his hand. "Come on! We have to stick together." Mewt refused to move, muttering something about Colin, Marche couldn't tell. Glancing back to the others, Marche's face met a snowball. Sputtering, he wiped his eyes to see Lyle rearing for another throw, when Ritz ran in between them and chucked her own snowball. Lyle dodged, but it gave Marche enough time to ready his own snowball. Running towards the slide, he threw it at Lyle, smirking when he heard a satisfying slop sound. _"At least we're keeping up in points."_ He thought, preparing another projectile.

Getting behind the cover of the slide, Marche checked on the rest of the field. Lana hadn't moved from behind the pillars, deciding she was safer pelting Colin and Guinness from there. The two boys had tried edging around her, when Ritz hopped over the pile of snow giving cover and with one kick, toppled it onto them. "Gotta do better than that boys." She said, jogging over to a giggling Lana.

Laughing at the sputtering bullies, Marche noticed the other girl, Mary, had gone up to Mr. Leslaie and was talking with him. Gathering up another snowball, Marche wondered what she was up to. Feeling a tug on his arm, he whirled around to see a snow-covered Mewt.

"S-sorry about freaking out." He muttered, looking at the slide. Marche thought his voice sounded weird. Not sad, or scared, but something else.

Patting Mewt's back, Marche said, "Don't worry about it. We're going to win, and you'll help."

Marche could have sworn Mewt looked hopeful for a moment, but then the light drained from his eyes and Mewt turned away. "Sure. Like that'll-watch out!"

Pulled down by Mewt, Marche let out a loud yelp as snow flew over him. Scrambling to their feet, the two saw Lyle jump out of the nearby bushes, snowball in hand. Marche yelled, "Run!" and both him and Mewt tried to get closer to Ritz and Lana, who had made a base at the pillars.

"Where do you think you're going, dweb?" Colin said. He and Guinness stood in front of the escaping boys, a snowball in each hand. Marche looked behind, hoping to see another way around, but Lyle was right there, grinning like mad.

"Get 'em!" Colin shouted, and then the snowballs were in the air. Acting on instinct, Marche dropped down, pulling Mewt with him.

"Ouch!" Mewt shouted. Looking at him, Marche saw a bunch of snow falling off Mewt's forehead. Wondering why Mewt's eyes were tightly shut, Marche wiped the snow away, but froze when he felt something warm coat his fingers.

Mewt was bleeding.

Marche looked closer at the ground beneath them, and saw a stone poking out of the ground. Glaring at the smug faces above them, Marche's fists balled up. "What the heck is wrong with you guys? Who chucks rocks at people?" He shouted.

They didn't answer, just continued laughing, even as Marche got up and started walking towards them. Guinness was the only one who looked worried, but as he backed up, he hit into something. "How would you like it if someone did that to you, huh?" Marche shouted.

Stopping his laughter, Colin scoffed, "Please, like this even matters. The whole point of this was just to play a snowball fight, right? So what if one accidently had a rock in it? Mewt probably just sucked so much the snow made him bleed!"

"That was no accident, and you know it, jerk!" Marche shouted. Lyle and Colin both glared in response.

"I think your mouth is a bit to free, don't ya think new kid?" Lyle said. Making another snowball, he smirked. "I think you need to be cut down a peg."

"And you two are going do it?" Marche crossed his arms. "You didn't even say the threat correctly. It's 'knock you down a peg,' and I don't even know what you butchered for your first insult."

As he watched Lyle pull his arm back to throw the snow, Marche ignored how badly this plan of his was going to be. _"__The kid asked for it_," He reasoned_, __"__And besides, he attacked first.__"_

He felt the snow hit him, and waited. The two bullies laughed. "Guess you were just talk, huh, new kid." Lyle said. He gave Colin a high-five. "What a dweb, even fixin my grammar. No wonder Mewt sticks to you, it's the only way he can pass class!"

He said nothing, letting them laugh. Just as Colin reached for more snow, Marche shoulder tackled him. Ignoring the shouts of surprise from Colin, he turned to deal with Lyle when a scream rang out. Marche looked around to see Guinness clutching his nose and moaning. Ritz stood above him, fist pulled back. "Say it again, you pig!"

"Ritz Maulher! Step back from that boy, or so help me you will be expelled!" Mr. Leslaie screeched, grabbing Marche's attention. The teacher was fuming, an angry looking Mary marching alongside him. Mr. Leslaie turned to Marche. "And you Marche! How will you explain this?"

"Mr. Leslaie, he was going to punch me next!" Lyle cried out. Marche was stunned. He was actually crying? Lyle had been about to kick him! "He just attacked us for throwing a snowball! I thought this was supposed to be fun."

His mind blanking out, Marche shrugged and pointed back to Mewt. "Mr. Leslaie, Mewt is bleeding."

Mary's smirk dropped into small 'o' when the teacher moved over to Mewt and wiped his forehead. "It's just a scratch. Mewt, how did this happen?"

"O-one of the sn-snowballs had a rock in it. Colin's, I think." He looked into Mr. Leslaie's face, his eyes tinged red. "Please don't punish Marche and Ritz. They were only trying to protect me from more rocks."

Marche hadn't realized he'd held his breath until the fog appeared in front of him. The trio of bullies, two of whom had been crying, suddenly leapt up. "He's lying!" Guinness said, blood staining his orange scarf. "Ritz just attacked me for no reason!"

Mr. Leslaie ignored them, instead turning to the crowd of students who had surrounded the scene. "I'm very sorry, but the rest of the matches are canceled. Get home safe, and happy holidays to you all."

"Not you three." He said. Marche chuckled despite himself, the look of fear in those bullies eyes was wonderful to watch. "You three will be coming with me to the principal. I do not think he will enjoy your explanation for why a rock was in your snowballs, do you?"

Mary stomped her foot, sinking it into the snow. "And what about them, huh? They assaulted-"

Smiling, Mr. Leslaie turned to her. "Why, Ms. Iller, do you mean to explain why talking about mathematics the day before a vacation was so important? Especially when you could have been playing as well? If so, you may come as well." She shook her head, backing away. "No? A shame. The rest of you may leave."

Marche stood there, watching as Mr. Leslaie led the boys back into the building. "What just happened?" He asked, slowly shaking his head.

Ritz stepped next to him. "I think we just got out of some big trouble, that's what."

"Y-eah." Marche turned around. Mewt had pulled himself out of the snow. "Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine." He sneezed, looking oddly at the two of them. "But...why did you do that? You could have gotten expelled!"

Surprised, Marche didn't answer. Ritz apparently could though, planting her feet in front of Mewt and glaring at him. "We were just defending you. What if we hadn't done anything, huh? They would have thrown more rocks at you, or worse, and you know it!"

Mewt deflated. "Yeah, I know…"

"Hey, it's okay." Marche put an arm around Mewt. "We knew what we were doing, even if Ritz got a bit carried away. Why did you punch Guinness anyway? You might have broken his nose."

Ritz fidgeted, curling strands of hair around her fingers. "It doesn't matter, the brat had it coming. And I wouldn't talk, you could have broken Colin's jaw with that tackle."

Marche raised his hands and backed away. "Okay, I gotcha. No more questions...except this one. You two want to come over to my place?"

Mewt looked surprised, but Ritz made a face. "I don't know Marche, I wouldn't want to get home late."

"Well, my house is near the shopping center, it shouldn't be too far from your place. Besides, do you have anything better planned?" Marche said. A blush crept to his face, and he scratched his head. "And besides, you guys are the only two I ever really talk to. It'd be nice to hang out some more."

A smile rose to Ritz's face. "Can't argue with that."

"I'd love to come!" Mewt said. "But, can we stop by the bookstore? I saw an interesting book there yesterday, and I want to pick it up."

"Sure, lead the way." Marche said.

Grabbing their bags, the trio walked off the school grounds and into town.

* * *

"And that's how I won the championship." Ritz finished saying, her head held high. Marche and Mewt clapped as she bowed.

The boys had listened as Ritz recounted a particularly amazing tournament match against a neighboring school. As the trio walked through the commercial district of town, frantic shoppers rushed about them, in and out of every store along the street. It always saddened Mewt to walk around the stores during Christmastime, but Ritz had distracted him from the candy-cane lights and flowered wreathes with her stories. But even that couldn't stop the memories from rising…

Shaking his head, Mewt instead wondered why Marche had invited him over as well. Ritz, he could understand, but him? He's just a boring boy with a stutter around bullies. Marche had stood up to them though, and even fought them! A thought struck him. "Hey Marche, where do you come from anyway?"

His friend looked surprised. "I never told you?" Mewt (_"__And Ritz,__"_ Mewt noticed) shook his head. "I'm from Georgia. A small town along the border, Hendrick. And there was snow there, Ritz, just never enough to play with. It usually would melt by morning." He went silent suddenly, an odd look on his face.

Mewt wanted to ask more, but the sight in front of them make him stop and groan._"__Not again. He said he__'__d stop that crap.__"_

Just across the street a middle-aged man with a pointed beard bowed his head towards two men in suits. Mewt didn't care about the suits, he only had eyes for the man in jeans and a sweater. _"__Pathetic. He__'__s even trying to shake his boss__'__ hand.__"_

"Mewt? You know that guy?" Marche asked, grabbing Mewt's attention. Ritz hadn't said anything, only looking at him with pity. Mewt slowly nodded, groaning again as the man noticed them and walked over.

"Hey Mewt!" The man said, his voice oddly cheery. "What'cha doing out here? Hanging out with some friends?"

Mewt stared at the man for a moment, then a thin smile formed on his lips. "Yeah dad. We were just going to the bookstore for something."

Mewt almost gagged when they greeted his father. The man had actually waved their greeting's away. "No, no, Cid is fine. No Mr. Randall for me. Makes me feel old. Just keep my son out of trouble, okay? I'll see you at home, 'k Mewt?"

Stiffly nodding, Mewt felt his shoulders droop. Tonight would be excuse after excuse again...and after all the work he'd done to stop this drinking problem.

"Err, Mewt?" Ritz said, waving a hand in front of his face. "You alright?"

Mewt nodded, not wanting to answer the coming questions. "Yeah, I'm fine. Hey, look! The library's right there. Wait just a second." He dashed into the store before they could say another word.

Slamming the door behind him, Mewt sighed. Marche didn't know, he was sure of it. But Ritz did, and would probably tell him_. __"__I hope he doesn__'__t try pitying me, I__'__ve had enough of that since Mom died. Then again, it__'__s better then bullying__…"_

Peeling himself off the door, Mewt looked around the room. Everything seemed dustier then he remembered, and he'd come in last week! Many of the shelves were emptied, and boxes in their place. Even the sales counter had boxes, although books were still displayed under it. Including the one Mewt had come for. There it sat, the bright greens and yellows rendering all other books dull in comparison. Embedded in the center of the cover was a blue gem the size of an eye, gleaming in Mewt's eyes.

"Who slammed that door? I paid good money for it, and I won't be the paying for it's replacement if it's broken!" A high-pitched voice called out. Glancing between the shelves, Mewt saw an old lady in a frazzled fur coat stomp toward him. The scowl on her face vanished upon seeing him. "Ah, Mewt! I see you came after all."

"Of course, Ms. Anushka. And I brought the money this time." Mewt said, grimacing when the lady hugged him. "It was forty dollars, right?"

She pursed her lips. "Actually my dear, why don't I give it to you? As a parting gift you see."

"R-really? Are you sure?" Mewt looked around the store, and realized what she meant. "You're moving? But wouldn't you need the money?"

Mewt felt a shiver as he realized the coughing noise she made was actually laughter. "My dear, I don't need money where I'm going. Besides, this book is worth much more then forty dollars." Unlocking the display case, she waved her hand. "Take the Gran Grimoire, and enjoy it as much as I have over the years."

Grabbing the book, Mewt ran his hand over it. "The Gran Grimoire...Thanks again Ms...Anushka?"

She was nowhere to be seen. Clutching his book, Mewt glanced between the shelves. "Ms. Anushka?"

Feeling alone, Mewt decided he'd take her advice and dashed out of the store.

* * *

"Come on Mewt. Just one peek?" Ritz said.

Mewt clutched his bag to his chest. "Nope, not until we get to Marche's place."

Ritz sighed. "It's just a boring book, Mewt. It's not like we can all read it."

"Guys? We're here." Marche said. Ritz looked at his house. A yellow roof, dull white walls, and only one window on the front side greeted her. There wasn't even a little pathway like the neighboring houses, just some stairs from the sidewalk up to the door. _"__Next time, they__'__re coming to my place.__"_ She thought, following the boys.

Opening the door, Marche said, "Mom! Doned! I'm home!"

The trio heard a crash. "Mom?" Marche shouted, dashing into the house. Ritz took off after him, horrified.

Tripping over Marche's discarded knapsack, Ritz fell into Marche. He had stopped to look into a nearby room. "Mom?" He said, rushing in.

Getting a clear view, Ritz wondered how Marche's family could stomach eating here. The walls were a dull grey, although she guessed they'd been some other color at some time. The stove was burnt, and the one flame on was currently sputtering in a feeble attempt to boil water. Looking down, Ritz gasped. Marche's mother lay on the floor, surrounded by pots and pans. Rushing over, Ritz helped Marche get the woman to her feet, Marche yelling at her the entire time. "You know better then to carry so many at once! Why'd you even get so many? What if you had hurt yourself? And where's Doned?"

"Oh, stop worrying, Marche. Doned is upstairs in the bedroom. I'm fine, I just slipped. " She said, dusting her pants off. Looking up, she frowned. "And you two are...?"

Ritz glanced behind to see Mewt running in. Grabbing his arm, she said, "Slow down boy, Marche's mother is okay." Smiling to the woman, Ritz offered her hand. "Ritz Mauhler. Me and Mewt here are friends of Marche."

"Ah. Nice to meet you. I'm Marche's mother." Mrs. Radiuju said, her frown softening as she shook her hand. "Well, I am glad to see that Marche has made some friends around town. Although it would have been nice to know company was on its way." She added, glaring at Marche.

"Sorry, but it was the last day of school, and," Marche paused, letting out a sigh. "And I thought Doned would like to meet some new people."

"Oh, how thoughtful of you!" She said, her frown vanishing. "Stay as long as you like you two. I'll just be down here, cooking dinner, okay?"

Ritz smiled again, giving Marche a questioning look once her back turned. He shrugged before walking out of the kitchen. Glancing at Mewt, she sighed. The guy was staring in confusion at Mrs. Radiuju. "Come on Mewt." She said, ignoring his protests at getting tugged along.

Following Marche around the house, Ritz realized just how poor her friend was. The walls were bare. She could see paint chippings hidden in corners, and she could have sworn she heard something running in the ceiling. She wondered if how his mother even afforded this place, if this was how it looked.

"Sorry about my mom. She's been working a lot recently, so she's tired." Marche said, waiting at the corner for them, his blue coat lying on a table nearby. His plain white shirt and jeans stood out against the brown of the wall behind him.

Ritz followed suit, throwing her own coat alongside it. "Don't worry about it. Everyone's parents are a little crazy. Right, Mewt?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I suppose so." Mewt said, looking around. Ritz wondered what he was looking for. "Is it okay for us just to leave our coats out here?" He asked. "I mean, won't your mom get annoyed?"

Leading them further down the hallway, Marche answered, "No. Right now, she'd probably invite you two to dinner and ask if you'd come again soon." Stopping at the last door, Marche turned around and looked both of them in the eyes. "Sorry if I didn't mention it, but my brother Doned is gonna be with us. I apologize in advance for his attitude, but be patient with him, please?" Noticing their confused looks, he continued. "Doned is, well he's-"

"-a cripple." A young voice finished. Looking past Marche, Ritz realized just why the house looked so ancient. A young boy, seated in a wheelchair, was looking at them. His hair was a dark red, and small freckles were under his eyes. He wore a plain looking shirt and jeans, but what horrified Ritz were the chains keeping his legs to the chair. The boy rolled his eyes at Marche. "No need to sugarcoat it, Marche. That's what I am." Looking past him, the boy noticed Mewt and Ritz. "Who are you two?"

"A c-couple of friends." Mewt said. "Marche invited us over to hang out."

"My brother actually invited people over?" The kid laughed, turning his chair around. "Maybe this weather really will be good for me."

Shrugging in apology, Marche followed his brother in. "Sorry for the mess, but we just got all Doned's stuff back from the hospital, so there's boxes everywhere."

Ritz thought she'd stepped into a different house. Instead of the dirt brown of the hallway, the bedroom was a bright yellow, with posters of shows and games hanging over one bed. Some drawers were tucked next to one bed, and a small collection of books was piled next to the other. In one corner of the room sat a couple of desks, with a calendar above them. A metal furnace with a dented teapot on top rested in the other. Across from the beds lay a small television with a skateboard lying against it. Marche had moved a few of the boxes into the center of the room and sat on one, his brother next to him.

"So Doned, how was the hospital?" Ritz asked, copying Marche and taking a box-seat. She dropped her bag behind her, before turning back to the chair-bound kid.

Doned yawned. "Sooooo boring. Father Michael visited a couple of times, but other then him it's been mind-numbing."

"Father Michael? You mean the old priest across town?" Ritz asked. Across from her, Marche groaned.

Doned nodded. "Yeah, he visited me every day. Even tried to play a videogame with me once." He laughed softly, then turned to Marche. "Oh yeah, he asked if we'd be coming to church Christmas Eve."

Marche groaned again, but glanced at Ritz before saying, "We'll talk to Mom about it, okay?"

_"Not my place to question."_ Ritz thought. Aloud, she said, "So could you go outside at the hospital? I know they have a wonderful garden to walk through there."

"No, the nurses said the snow would give a me a cold." Doned leaned back into his chair. "I don't know what they're so worried about, it's just some white stuff, but whatevers...hey, uh..."

"Oh, we didn't introduce ourselves, huh?" Ritz said, "I'm Ritz, and shy-guy over here is Mewt."

Doned nodded, and pointed at Mewt. "Okay, Mewt. Today was the last day of classes, right? So, did you guys play in the snow?"

"Uh, y-yeah, we did." Mewt said, suddenly looking everywhere but at Ritz and Marche. "They organized a snowball fight for us, and-"

"And we almost won too!" Ritz cut in, "You know, your brother is really good in a snowball fight, Doned. I never would have guessed he's never even seen snow before!"

Doned stared at her, eyes wide open in shock. He opened his mouth slowly, then closed it the same speed. Ritz wondered if some medicine had kicked in, when the kid broke out into laughter. Gasping for air, Doned said, "Oh...m..my bro...brother? Good at something athletic? That's a good one!" Doned couldn't get anything else out, falling back into his chair, laughing.

"I'm sure he's not that bad." Ritz said, giggling hesitantly. Curiosity growing as Doned kept laughing, she looked at Marche. "Are you, Marche?"

He actually blushed! "Err, well, I mean..."

"Seeing that Doned is practically falling out of his chair right now, I'm guessing he is, in fact, that bad, Ritz." Mewt said, a small smile on his face.

"Come on now, don't you gang up on me too, Mewt!" Marche cried out, finally finding his voice as Ritz broke out in laughter. He shook his head, drawing out a sigh. "First my brother, now my friends. Who next, my mother?"

Ritz could hear Mewt try to apologize, but the image of Marche failing to skateboard jumped to mind, and she broke down into more laughter.

She calmed down in time to hear Marche chuckling. "I set myself up for it by inviting Blabber-Mouth over."

"Hey!" Ritz shouted. "It's Ms. Blabber-Mouth to you, and don't you forget it!"

"Oh, I'm sure we won't." Marche said, holding back his own laughter. He turned to Mewt. "So where's this book you were talking about?"

"Oh, right!" Mewt jumped up, running to his bag. Ritz watched as he pulled out a huge, colorful book with a bright gem on it. "When I first saw this grimoire, that's what the lady at the store called it, it just called out to me. I mean, look at it! Who knows what's inside!"

"Wait, you mean you don't know?" Ritz said. "Like, not even the genre? Do you even know what it's called?"

"Err..." Mewt blushed, cradling the grimoire in his hands. "Not exactly. It's...not even in english, actually." Ritz could not believe him. He noticed her, adding, "B-but not even the lady knew what it was called! She gave it her own title, the Gran Grimoire."

"Gran Grimoire, huh? So, what language is it in?" Marche asked.

Sitting down, Mewt placed the book in the center of their circle. "I'm not sure. I meant to check it out tonight, but since you asked me over, I was wondering if maybe one of you knew." Flicking open a hidden lock, Mewt turned open to the first few pages.

"I certainly can't tell." Marche said. "How 'bout you Ritz?"

"No idea. It could be Latin I suppose, but that's just a guess." She said, running her fingers over it. The pages felt smooth under her fingers, but they looked as if they should have crumbled apart years ago.

"Well, why are we wasting time looking the boring stuff? Let's open it up!" Doned said, eyes wide with excitement.

With a quiet reverence, Mewt turned the pages slowly for them all to see. Yellowing with age, the pages were covered in the same foreign language as the prologue. Sometimes sketches and drawings of monstrous beasts and foreign beings filled them instead, and each one seemed familiar to Ritz. Dragons and goblins, magic and swords; every image reminded her of something. She wondered if the others thought so too.

As they turned to the center pages, the words gave way to a painting taking up both sides of the book. The four sat quietly, absorbing what they saw.

"Is that a giant rabbit?" Doned asked, breaking the silence.

"I...I think it is." His brother answered. "And I think that's a walking lizard next to it."

"Just what is this?" Ritz muttered, turning further in. "It's like an encyclopedia on fantasy."

"If only we could read it." Mewt whispered, staring in awe at the images.

They fell into silence once more, letting the pictures rest in sight for a few moments before moving on.

Suddenly, Doned slapped a hand down on a page. "Wait!"

"Yes, Doned?" Marche asked, looking over to him.

"What if...this is a magic book?" Doned said, a mischievous smirk on his face. "You know, filled with spells and stuff."

"Don't be ridiculous." Marche replied. "You're just saying that because you want to fly."

Ritz laughed at the adorable pout on Doned's face. "Well Marche, if your brother wants to fly, what would you want the magic to do?"

"Not you too Ritz!" He cried out. "But if I have too..."

"Wish you'd actually be able to skateboard!" Doned cried out. "Or at least get some balance."

"Hey!"

Giggling at Marche's excuses, Ritz smiled at him. "When the weather gets warmer, we could all go to the park you know. I'm sure Doned here would love to see me beat you at basketball."

"Oh, I'm sure." Marche said. He grinned, adding, "But that's only if I lose."

Ritz smirked. "Oh, you will." Doned broke out laughing again, and she joined him.

"You say something, Mewt?" Marche asked, flustered at the laughter.

Ritz turned to see Mewt concentrating on the book again. "Oh, I was just reading one of the lines. Here, look."

"That's odd, the ink is different here." Marche said, "And what's with all these shapes?"

"Let me see." Ritz said, turning the book to face her. "Weird, these look like they were added in later on. And the words don't seem to be in the same language as the rest of the book."

"So what? It's not like that means anything." Doned said, sounding bored. "It probably was written in by whoever owned it last."

"Yeah, but this looks like...almost like Greek, or maybe Arabic." Ritz muttered. Twirling a strand of hair, she made a mental note to ask Mewt about it tomorrow. "I've got no idea what it could mean though. And why write it a book you planned to sell?"

"Maybe they wanted to add to the story." Doned huffed. "Come on, who cares? Why don't we play a game?"

"What, like 'Final Fantasy?' Doned, we can't all play that." Marche scoffed. "Besides, Ritz probably doesn't even like video games."

"Hey! Are you saying that because I'm a girl?" She shouted. The nerve! Did all guys think girls played dress-up or something? "I'll have you know I actually do play Final Fantasy."

"Really? Me too!" Mewt said. "I always love pretending I'm out adventuring with Vaan or Zidane, saving the world and fighting monsters."

"Same here! Wow, you guys have magic books and play Final Fantasy? Marche, where have they been all my life?" Doned asked, a dreamy look on his face.

"Not in la-la land with you, that's for sure." he replied, shaking his head. "Although, after all those tests, an adventure does sound like fun."

"Swords and spells, out in the wilderness with just your friends for company. Sounds like the perfect getaway..." Ritz said. She shook her head. _"__If only, huh?__"_

"You alright, Ritz?" Marche asked as Doned wheeled toward Mewt. "You sound down."

"What? Oh no! I'm perfectly fine, I've just been stressed out. You know, school and everything." She said, smiling at him.

"Oh, believe me, I know." He said. Ritz wondered why he was fidgeting. "Just, you know, I-er, we are your friends. If something's wrong, we're here for you, you know?"

She couldn't help it, she giggled. "Aww, thanks Marche. But I'm fine, okay?" He nodded slowly. Ritz hoped he hadn't been insulted, it meant a lot that he'd even said that. Although, now she caught herself staring into his blue eyes and looked away. First time over, and already having awkward staring sessions. At least Mewt and Doned hadn't noticed.

A thought struck her. "Hey Marche, are you going anywhere for Christmas?"

"Hmm? No, we're just staying home." He said, all smiles again. "You?"

"I think so. Dad wants to go out to my cousin's place. They live in New York, and it's so cool there. We went for New Year's last year, and I got to explore their neighborhood and try the bakeries." She said. She giggled at the memory. "My mom was so angry when we got back, but dad told me he was glad I'd had fun. Unfortunately, I think we're going to my grandmother's for Christmas."

Eyes drifting to her bag, she noticed her phone peeking out. "6:02," She read, and her eyes widened.. "Oh, shoot, I need to get home!" Grabbing her bag, she rushed to the door. _"__Time just flies when you__'__re having fun, huh?__"_ She thought, waiting for Marche and Mewt get up.

"Same here. I probably should have been home half an hour ago." Mewt said, closing his book. "Thanks for inviting us over, Marche. And great meeting you, Doned. I'll play with you next time, okay?"

"Yeah, it was really nice meeting you! Hope you can play in the snow soon!" Ritz added, smiling at the boy. She wanted to cry when he smiled back, it looked so forced on him now.

"Hey, I'll walk you guys out." Marche said, walking over to her. "I'll be right back Doned."

"'K. Bye!" Doned called out, watching as they left the room. When the door closed, he let out a sigh. He wheeled himself to the window and pulled himself up to look out. He saw snow falling along the street. Ritz and Mewt were walking away, and Doned saw a few teenagers running by. Even when his mom called for him, he just stood there, watching the world outside. "Magic...if only."

* * *

Darkness had fallen on the town. Only the yellow glow of lamps remained for those wandering the streets. Like and old group of carolers, singing out joy on their latest evening together. They passed by the closed shopping center, the playground, and the church.

They sung by the low-town, staying a while as the normally isolated families gathered near to listen. A couple of adolescents joined alongside them, and stayed the rest of the night singing. Marche and Doned heard them from their room, the final sounds in their ears as they bid the world good night.

They moved through the high-town, gathering around doors when asked, and singing alongside the families inside. Ritz went out with them for a while until being called back inside.

Late into the night, the group converged by the central plaza, right around the fountain. Mewt watched through his window and watched as the group continued to sing.

_"Everyone one of them can go home, knowing Christmas is just around the corner."_ He thought. His hand formed a fist, and he punched the book in his hands. _"But not me. No, Christmas means nothing for me."_

Mewt lifted the teddy bear next to him into his arms and looked once more at the book in his hands. The cover felt inviting, promising him a journey to a new land with just a flick of his fligers. He moved to open it, to see the sights inside, but stopped. _"Just another cruel joke. A whole world to see, and I can't understand it."_ With that thought, he threw the grimoire onto his bed. Mewt turned away, watching the snowfall outside.

"Magic...would it bring you back, Mom?" He whispered, resting his head against the glass.

The book landed cover down, bouncing up slightly. If Mewt had turned around, he might have seen the book open all on its own. If he listened, he might have heard the pages turning, ever increasing.

As it was, he turned just as light exploded out from the book, engulfing his vision.

* * *

**Hello everybody, and welcome to my latest story, a novelization of Final Fantasy Tactics Advance! This was one of my favorite games on the GBA, and I've come to realize that it has a lot of potential for good writing. Icey the Fox's story "Casualties" may have inspired me as well (Go read it if you'd like! He did a fantastic job!). So as a novelization, I plan on keeping everyone's perspective throughout the story, and adding my own little bits as well. Due to the nature of the beast, there will be OC's. They will be awesome, but not in the overpowered, story stealing way. They'll be there doing what they're supposed to do: and to the plot without stealing the show.**

**Updates will be sporadic. Honestly, this is a huge project, one that I've had in my mind since the past summer, and it will probably take me a while to complete. I may take breaks, but I'll work every day on it. If you have any comments, complaints, requests, etc, send me a PM and I'll be happy to respond. See you soon!**

**Edit: Wow, I've already changed things? Crazy, but I realized just how much editing I need to do without a Beta Reader. So, yeah, slow goings then.**


	2. Chapter 2: Awakening Anew

Chapter 2: Awakening Anew

_I don't dream. Mewt lectured me once about how we dream constantly and gave tons of explanations, but I didn't believe him. Well, I did, but I just didn't think it applied to me._

_Of course, closing my eyes in my bedroom, then opening them and seeing an office instead killed that theory. _

_I'd heard that what happened in dreams couldn't be controlled, so I waited. And waited. Bored, and now thinking I'd been lied to this whole time, I looked around the room. It reminded me of a medieval castle. Giant stone blocks that seemed to shine made up the walls and floor. Or was that marble? Yeah, definitely marble. One of the walls had been knocked out though, leaving three pillars holding up the ceiling. Pale blue curtains swayed from an invisible breeze. The opposite wall had two bookshelves covering the wall. A mirror was held in between them, revealing a man with striking blue eyes staring at me. Blonde hair fell on armored shoulders and a scar ran along his cheek. The silver armor he wore only accented his strength. I flinched, unsettled by the way he stared at me. Wait, he moved back too. _

_I raised my hand, and so did the man. __**"Right, only my reflection."**__ I chuckled. Maybe this was how I secretly wanted to look? I guess a dream could do that. Might be all those fantasy books I've read...It would explain the sword at my hip. I pulled the weapon out. It slid easily, and fit in my hand pefectly. It felt amazing. Must've been around four feet long, but I could swing it easily. How did the light catch on the blade like that? And that gem at the hilt! Heck, it even had my name embedded on the blade. "Marche Radiuju," in short, fancy script. This thing must cost a fortune._

_I sheathed the weapon and turned to my left. A desk and chair were just a few feet away. Some papers were stacked on the desk, but that didn't freeze me in place. A helmet, made of the same metal as the armor I wore, faced me. Two horns rose from the top, curled around themselves in a forward spiral. That was enough for me to falter, if but for a moment._

_I felt drawn to it. It seemed important, and reminded me of something from home. Something Doned had mentioned once...a symbol of power? I'm sure whoever wore this was powerful. And famous. Kings wore helmets like this, right? _

_When had I put it in my hands? Why not put it on? It was obviously mine. I saw myself on a throne, regal armor shining in an imaginary sun. But kings in armor normally don't get elected, do they? History's proven only war and death and murder get them there. A rattling caught my attention, and I realized I was shaking. __**"No, not me."**_

_I hurled that priceless helmet to the floor. It shattered on impact, pieces flying everywhere. All thoughts of kings vanished, replaced by…disbelief?_

_I noticed a door across the room, but before I took a step toward it, I felt everything shaking. I stepped back and felt nothing but empty air. Bright light blinded me, and then I felt myself falling..._

* * *

_Fallingfallingfallingcrapcrapcrap-_

"Aaaaaaaahhhh!" Marche screamed. He bolted to his feet, a hand on his chest. His voice faltered at the sight in front of him. His house didn't have stone walls. Looking around, he realized he wasn't even in a house.

"What the heck? Is this another dream?" Marche scratched his head. "Is that possible?"

It couldn't be real. No place in St. Ivalice had alleys filled with grass. And it was the middle of winter at home! Not this…spring weather? Summer? Whatever the season, Marche felt himself relax as a warm breeze went by.

Leaning against the wall, Marche laughed. _"Well, if it is another dream, hopefully this one won't end with falling." _

He looked down at himself. Yep, back to his normal body. He didn't recognize the clothes though. He wore a blue, short-sleeved shirt and brick colored shorts. He could feel padding underneath the shirt, and pulling it up, chain mail and a brown undershirt under above that. His feet were itching, probably due to the socks, and- "Steel toed shoes?"

Marche kicked the wall. A clear 'tink' noise resounded, and he shook his head. _"Out of all of this, that has got to be the weirdest."_

He had another sword as well, not nearly as fancy as the other one. Just a few feet of steel and a scratched up pommel. _"I don't actually know how to fight with this..but this is a dream right? So why not dream I know?" _He thought, swinging the blade around.

He posed in what he hoped was a starting position, both hands on the grip, his eyes focused on an imaginary foe. Eyes narrowed, he stabbed forward. Not pausing, he ducked a swing, then slashed forward. The walls around him faded from his sight as he focused solely on his phantom foe. As he twirled around another strike, he started laughing. It felt exhilarating! He imagined a second foe, shorter then him, and his body moved before he could even tell it to.

He would have kept fighting his phantom foes, but as he stepped forward for a finishing strike, he tripped over a rock. The ground rushed up to meet him, and he grunted on impact. He lay there, his adrenaline drained. _"Okay, so that was cool."_

Getting up, Marche sheathed his sword and dusted himself off. He paused, feeling something in his pocket. He reached in and pulled out a small sack, no larger than a small rock and not much heavier. Inside were dozens of golden coins, the light shimmering off them.

"_So, I can somehow swordfight, and have a ton of money. Can this dream get any better?"_ Marche stared at his sudden fortune for a moment longer before returning it to his pocket. When he woke up, he was going to be so disappointed. But for now, he decided to keep exploring this new dream.

He walked out of the alley and realized his dream had given everyone new clothing. People walked by in silks, leather, armor…and all had weapons! As he stared at a particularly huge sword carried around by an otherwise friendly looking man, Marche thought, _"Is my mind trying to tell me something? Maybe that I'd look good in leather while I decapitated someone? Geez."_

The sight of the odd crowd suddenly vanished, replaced by a mob of people rushing around him. Marche found himself carried away with them and unable to push back, he resigned himself to not getting stepped on. When the mob dispersed, he looked around, and realized going with the flow wasn't a bad idea.

It reminded him of a bazaar. Stalls and tables of every size, as far as he could see, which admittedly wasn't far. But in sight was a bustling crowd filling out the plaza where, at the very edge of his vision, water shot into the sky. Marche laughed and dived into the chaos. This dream was getting better and better!

The first merchants he passed by disappointed him; they only sold food, and it wasn't even different! Just fruit basket after colorful fruit basket. Not feeling hungry, Marche walked on. The crowd filled the entire path now, and now they were shouting. Ducking under the arm of a black robed man, Marche grinned. _"Of course, weapons."_

And there were a lot of weapons. Swords, daggers, axes, hammers, staves…the list went on and on! Each merchant had their own gimmick too. One bare chested man was showing off, swinging his blades in intricate patterns as the crowd "Oow'd" and "Aww'd." Another was actually melding armor as another merchant took orders.

Finally breaking through the mob, Marche glanced around. For a dream, everything was so real. Even the canines on that furry merchant over there look authentic. Marche's jaw dropped. That merchant really did have a snout, and long, drooping ears covered in fur to match!

"_Well, I do like dogs."_ Marche thought, staring as the creature sold a staff to a white-robed girl. _"I guess dreams about dog people wouldn't be too crazy." _

"Hey boy! Come over here!" Oh, the dog-man was staring at him, waving his hands (or were they paws?). He waved them again. "Yes, you in the blue!"

He walked over, and the creature began rummaging through a box. "You look like a smart lad." The creature smiled at him, revealing an unwanted display of decaying teeth. Quickly looking away, Marche saw what he'd pulled up a small bottle of some green liquid.

"Ever been on your last legs?" The dog-merchant dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned toward Marche. "Not a healer to be found, and everyone's out to get you? Well, I can guarantee, this elixir here will be your savior."

"Err, I don't know." Marche said. He couldn't take his eyes away from the huge ears dangling off the creature. "I really don't have much."

Noticing his gaze, the creature smirked at Marche. "What, never seen a nu mou before, kid?" He laughed, tossing the miracle potion between his hands. "We are the masters of magic, you know. But even we need a pick-me-up, and this bottle can do it for anyone and everyone."

He leaned in again, pale green eyes sparkling. "So how about it? Only twenty-thousand gil!"

Retreating a step, Marche shook his head. "Uh, I don't have that kind of money."

The nu mou (_Where have I heard it before?)_, tossed the elixir into a nearby bag. "Well, if you ever change your mind, just ask around for Gillis! Of course, come too late, and there won't be an elixir to buy."

Nodding, Marche walked away. _"Did my mind just try to con me?"_ He wondered, dodging around a particularly 'large' nu mou. _"Although, a magic potion would be something dream-like. Maybe I could have bought it. I should've asked how much 'gil' I had."_

So absorbed in his thoughts, Marche didn't notice he'd run into someone until he fell back from the impact. "I'm so sorry, that was my..."

The rest of his apology ended in a mumble as Marche looked up, up, up to a lizard-like human glaring down at him. He was at least six feet tall, and covered in tiny, dull brown scales. It wore a pair of threadbare shorts and chain mail over a red shirt. His outfit did little to hide the bulging biceps and triceps and all the other –ceps on him. A part of Marche's mind noticed the sword at the creature's waist, but then it opened its mouth, snout, whatever, and spoke.

"Watch where yer going, boy." It's voice sent shivers down Marche's spine. Raspy and deep, it fit the creature too well for his liking. The pointed teeth sent him over the edge, and Marche opened his mouth on reflex.

"A-a talking lizard!" The dull annoyance in the creature's eyes vanished, replaced with shock. _"Maybe…that wasn't the best thing to shout."_ Marche reflected as the creature looked him over.

"What'd ya ssay, ya brat? Ssupposse you want a fight, eh?" It sounded like a growl, and the creature gripped his sword.

Marche shook his head and backed away. "No, no, I'm not looking for anything like that."

The lack of noise around worried him, and he risked looking away from the increasingly angry lizard. The nearby shoppers had vanished, and even the stalls were devoid of their merchants. _"Just my luck, my own dream gets insulted and leaves me to die."_

The lizard had pulled out its sword and began rummaging through its pockets. Marche took the chance to pull his own sword out and calm himself. _"It's just a dream. If I do die, I'll probably just wake up."_ He reasoned. _"And besides, I kinda know how to fight. Maybe I'll even win!"_

Just as the bangaa pulled his arm out of his pocket, a voice called out. "There you are kupo! I've been looking everywhere for you."

Both would-be-combatants turned to the speaker: a three-foot-tall stuffed animal. At least, that's what it looked like. It wore a bright green shirt and brown pants over light, cream colored fur. A patch of yellow-orange hair stuck out between two huge, brown-tipped bunny ears, and it had bat-like wings on its back. A small ball bounced along behind it, which after a moment Marche realized was connected to the creature's head. It twirled a wooden rod in one hand as it stepped between Marche and the lizard, and another wave of familiarity hit Marche.

The lizard growled at the newcomer. "You know thiss hume, moogle?"

"_Moogle? Wait, seriously?"_ Marche stared at the little guy in front of him. He held back a laugh. _"Doned is going to love this! A dream with his favorite video game characters. Although, it looks different from the ones in the games."_ He winced; the moogle's voice had jumped an octave. _"And apparently this one hit puberty, if that's anything to go by."_

He looked back to the lizard, looking it over more closely. _"Then that must be a bangaa. Guess my subconscious likes those games too."_

"Kupo? Kupo!" The moogle snapped his furry fingers. "Apologize to the bangaa, kupo."

Annoyed, Marche bowed his head. "I'm very sorry for insulting you, sir, as well as running into you. Forgive me."

No response. Marche risked a glance at the moogle, but he had already started walking away. The moogle motioned for him to follow, but before he even stepped, the bangaa grunted. "Now wait jusst a minute, boy."

"Yes?" He faced the creature, ignoring the pit opening in his stomach. The bangaa's smile reminded him of a cat. _"And what do cats just love?" _

"Yer a ssoldier, aren't ya. Why not have match?" He said. Marche stifled a laugh. The bangaa actually posed, finger pointed and everything! This dream could not get crazier!

"He's not serious, is he?" No answer. Marche turned to see the moogle nodding its head.

"Kupo, why not a two on two?" The bangaa nodded and began shouting for someone. Marche just stared at the moogle, who noticed Marche's surprise and shrugged. "What? It's just a quick fight kupo."

"Sure, quick for them. I can't fight two guys at once, let alone two bangaas!" Marche said. "How are you supposed to-wait." Rods, what type of person used rods in those games...

The moogle sniffed. "I'm trained in black magic, kupo. **Payos**." A cold breeze hit Marche, and the grass around them was suddenly a clear blue. "See kupo?"

Marche kneeled down and snapped one of the blades. It began melting in his hand, the grass inside limp. "Oh, that is just awesome! Best dream ever."

"Hey! You two ready?" The bangaa shouted. Marche ignored the odd look on the moogle's face and turned to see the other opponent. Another bangaa, a head shorter then the first was with him, and he didn't have a weapon. He wouldn't need one though, what with all the muscle on him. He didn't even have armor though, only a small orange vest and shorts. He looked bored, like he'd been dragged there.

Marche looked around. There were stalls close on the left and right, but nobody in them still. _"Well, those'll probably break."_ He thought. Drawing his sword, Marche nodded at the bangaas.

The sword wielder grinned and raised an object above his head. "To battle!"

A flash of light blinded Marche momentarily, and suddenly a giant yellow chicken-thing was standing between him and the bangaas. The word 'chocobo' came to mind. Riding the bird was someone covered from head to toe in shiny grey armor.

Marche shivered at the sight of them. That armor looked similar to what he'd wore in his other dream. The knight looked over all of four combatants, and spoke.

"This shall be an engagement between two members of clan Stone and the unaffiliated Marche Radiuji and Montblanc Lambert." Mache blinked. How'd he know their names?

The mysterious knight continued, "Today's laws to be enforced are as follows-"

"Yeah, yeah, we all know them, Verax. Let'sss get sstarted already!" The armored bangaa said. He kept bouncing up and down, like a kid in a toy store. The chocobo glared at the bangaa, but the knight Verax nodded. With a kick of his heels, the chocobo hopped on top of a nearby stall.

Verax raised a gloved fist, a white light shining around it. "Let the battle commence!" He said, and suddenly he vanished.

The armored bangaa growled. "Leave the rat to me, Terin. You handle the furball."

Montblanc squeaked at the name and retorted, but Marche was too focused on the approaching bangaa to care. It couldn't be much different from before, right? He'd just need to dodge. The sunlight shone off the bangaa's blade, and he felt his breathing speed up. _"Just a dream."_

His eyes widened, and Marche jumped to the left. The bangaa's sword nicked his shoulder as he charged by. Marche refused to cry out, and swung at the bangaa on reflex. He heard a cracking noise, and then his vision filled with stars.

He raised a trembling hand to his nose. Blood? He shook his head and pulled himself to his feet. The bangaa was clutching his right arm, which hung uselessly at his side. But Marche could only stare at his eyes. Pure rage, directed solely at him. He roared, a deep, guttural sound, and charged again.

Marche froze in place, terror holding him still. Pain flared in his arm, and he started moving on impulse, his sword catching the berserk bangaa's at the guard. He dodged the incoming fist and ducked under the bangaa's arm. He sliced between the armor and pants, and tried rolling. The bangaa caught his foot and slammed him into a nearby stall. He gasped for breath, unable to move. The bangaa dropped his sword and leapt at him.

He raised his blade, and then the bangaa tried biting his face. Marche felt hot breathe on his face, and squeezed his eyes shut. But the expected teeth never reached him, and peeking open one eye, he saw the bangaa's glazed eyes staring back. Something warm was dripping over his hands.

He lay there, straining to breath under the weight of the bangaa. _"I just killed someone. Ijustkilledijustohshitoshit-" _He was hyperventalaiting, his eyes locked on the bangaa's. "_This is just a dream."_ He repeated it to himself, his personal mantra until his breathing slowed and he couldn't hear his heartbeat. It didn't stop the bile from rising in his throat, but he regained his composure. He heaved the body off and lay there a moment longer. For a dream, that near death experience sure felt real. He forced himself up, frowning at the blood on his hands. He wiped them and turned to the body.

The bangaa didn't seem different. It was like it had-_he_ had fallen asleep, if someone could fall asleep with their eyes wide open and a sword in their chest. Ignoring his disgust, Marche tugged the blade out. Slick blood, still warm, ran down most of the blade. He shuddered and turned around. The only thing to greet him was a passing dandelion on the warm breeze.

He scratched his head. "Uh, hello? Montblanc? Other bangaa guy? Anybody-Ow!" He yelped, slapping his arm. It felt like someone had thrown a softball at him, but the only thing around was a silver card lying in the grass. Picking it up, he turned it in his hand. One side had that creepy helmet on it, but the other showed two swords crossed. He pocketed it.

Where could the other two be? Did it even matter? Marche hadn't even wanted to fight. He looked back the way he'd came. It'd be easy to walk away. No need to...to kill anyone else. _"But it's not killing. It's a dream."_ It sounded hollow, even to him. Would a dream have gone on this long? Maybe he shouldn't tell Doned about this…

He glanced toward the nearby stall. Someone had just screamed, and he could hear the sound of fire. Marche took a step back-

And was hit by a flaming bangaa. The two fell to the ground, the bangaa rolling off of him in one fluid motion, already patting the fire out. Marche gasped at the rush of pain.

"Great, you can help me with that damn moogle Feld, ya asss. What took you sso long with the brat?" The bangaa froze when his eyes met Marche's.

"Is this where I say something witty?" Marche said. He could barely hear himself, but the bangaa, he, well, he started...hacking? No, laughter, just really dry.

He crouched down and patted Marche's head. "Ssoundss like it, boy." His smile creeped Marche out. Then the patting hand gripped his jaw. "But ah guesss ya missed yer chance."

He heard a crack, then everything went dark.

* * *

**Hello everyone, I finally got a round to getting this chapter up. Sorry it took so long, I wanted to get Marche's reactions believable and he would not co-operate. ****Anyway, don't worry about how this chapter is just about Marche, I'll be switching up the viewpoint character periodically. I also plan on showing off Mewt and Ritz's beginnings in Ivalice, but how I do so will remain a secret. For now at least.**

**I hope you enjoyed this (short) chapter, and let me know if any errors stood out! **


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